Heartstone

by Phillip Margolin

  Mark looked at the three thousand dollar check and missed most of what Sarah had said. He had never had a fee anywhere near this big and it did not even dawn on him that the rest of the ten thousand might not follow.

  “That will be fine. This is more than enough to get me started.”

  It was after five and Mark’s secretary had left for the evening.

  “What did the district attorney tell you?” Sarah asked anxiously. Mark noticed that she seemed less self-confident tonight. The quiet in the office and her presence there alone had made him feel mildly uncomfortable. He wanted to reassure her, but his fantasies of where that could lead made him afraid.

  “The district attorney didn’t tell me much that I didn’t know already, except that he says that they have an eye-witness-a girl who was supposedly with Bobby and his brother at the time of the killings.”

  “She saw them do it?” Sarah asked in disbelief.

  “She says she saw them do it, according to the D.A. That doesn’t mean that she’s telling the truth. There are some funny things going on that I want to know more about.

  “For instance, why didn’t she come forward seven years ago? The prosecutor says she had amnesia caused by seeing the people killed, but why, all of a sudden, does her memory come back?

  “Also, why is Heider keeping his key witnesses so quiet? If there wasn’t something wrong with their case, I don’t think he would have done that.”

  “Do you…do you think that Bobby did…?”

  “That he’s guilty?” Mark said, leaning toward her across his desk. “I have no opinions right now. Bobby said that he didn’t and that’s good enough for me.”

  Sarah felt ashamed of herself for having voiced her doubts.

  “I’d better go now,” she said, starting to rise.

  “Can I give you a lift? I’m leaving too.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t put you out.”

  “No trouble. I’m going in that direction anyway.”

  He smiled and she noticed how handsome he was. She smiled back and accepted his offer.

  During the ride to Sarah’s apartment, Mark tried not to mention the case, because he could see how upset Sarah was. When he had maneuvered his car out of the parking lot and into city traffic, he asked her,

  “Why did you come to an American school for your education?”

  “It seemed adventurous to study in a foreign country,” she said with a smile. The windows were rolled down and the wind tangled and lifted her golden hair.

  “Do you enjoy studying among the natives?”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Are your parents filthy rich?” he asked.

  Sarah’s mouth opened in surprise. Then she threw her head back and laughed.

  “You are bold.”

  Mark shrugged.

  “You said you were well off and you live in a ritzy part of town.”

  “Yes. We have scads of money,” she answered. She was beginning to like Mark. She was glad that she had hired such a nice person to represent Bobby. “Are you jealous?”

  Mark thought about it.

  “I wouldn’t mind being rich. It would solve a lot of problems.”

  “Oh, you’ll soon be rolling in the dough. Lawyers make a lot of money.”

  “Some do.”

  “I have faith in you,” she said, smiling. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have hired you.”

  Mark looked at Sarah and their eyes met for a moment. He looked away, feeling very unsure of himself. Was it his imagination or had she meant more than she said?

  Mark drove up into the hills. Sarah looked out the window, not wanting to meet Mark’s eyes, because the look he had given her confused her. She was glad when they arrived at her apartment. She didn’t want to come on with Mark, but it would be to her advantage to have him interested in her, because of her indecision about the money. Besides, it wouldn’t be hard to make Mark think she found him attractive, because she did. He had cheered her up on the ride home and, until that moment when she had looked into his eyes, he had made her forget her problems.

  She watched Mark’s car disappear over the hill and she suddenly felt guilty. Bobby was her boyfriend and he was in jail charged with murder. The situation was getting too complex for her. Too many things were happening at once. It would be better not to think for a while. She put on a record and sat in the dark, listening to the music.

  “Mr. Toller, I’m Albert Caproni and I’m with the district attorney’s office. I understand that you have some information on the Murray-Walters case.”

  Toller looked Caproni over and looked past him toward the door of the private interview room.

  “Where’s Heidman? Ain’t he tryin’ the case?”

  “I’m Mr. Heider’s assistant. Mr. Heider would have come himself, but a matter came up that required his personal attention.”

  “Yeah? Well this matter’s gonna require attention too, if you want to find out what happened to that girl.”

  “What girl?”

  “The one you say those Coolidge boys killed. I know it wasn’t them.”

  “You mean Elaine Murray?”

  “I don’t remember the name, but she’s the right one. I seen her picture in the paper and I knew her right off.”

  “If the Coolidge brothers didn’t kill Elaine Murray, who did?”

  Toller leaned back in his chair and took a long look at Albert Caproni. Then he started to laugh.

  “Jesus, you must think I’m awful stupid. I’m sittin’ here with the evidence on the biggest case that hit this town in years and I’m sittin’ here lookin’ at possibly twenty years and you want me to give you what I know for nothin’. Well, I ain’t givin’ this away. I want to deal, understand?”

  “Mr. Toller, I am not authorized to make any ‘deals.’ Mr. Heider has the authority to plea negotiate any case, but he won’t even consider negotiating until he knows what you have to offer.”

  “If I tell you everything, what guarantee do I have that you won’t just tell me to screw off?”

  “You don’t have any guarantee. On the other hand, if I walk out of here I can guarantee you one thing-no other district attorney is going to come back.”

  Toller’s bravado began to dissipate and Caproni could see that he was thinking hard.

  “Mr. Toller, why don’t you just tell your attorney what you know and let him handle this?”

  Toller waved his hand at Caproni, brushing the suggestion aside.

  “He’s some young kid that’s wet behind the ears. I don’t think he has the brains to remember it all. Look, if I tell you, and the information checks out, what can you do for me? I was plannin’ to get married before I got busted. Then I lost my job. I knew I was actin’ stupid, but I was real down and I never act smart when I’m down.”

  “Mr. Toller, you really shouldn’t be discussing the facts of your case with me. It’s my office that will be prosecuting you.”

  Toller laughed again. Only this time the laughter was bitter.

  “Son, there’s no way I can beat this one. I know that. I just want a break for once. I’m desperate. I found this girl, Joyce, for the first time. A real stand-up girl, ya know? Then I went ahead and blew it. I don’t even know if she’ll still stick by me, even if I do get out. But, I’m just gettin’ too old for prison and I know that’s where I’m headed if I don’t make this deal.”

  “I sympathize with you,” Al said, and he really did, “but I can’t guarantee anything. You’ll just have to trust me. If I think you’re leveling with me, I will promise you that I’ll try to help you out. That is, if the information is important.”

  Toller examined his fingernails and Caproni said nothing. Toller raised his head and sighed.

  “I guess I gotta take the chance.”

  Caproni took a writing pad out of his attaché case.

  It was the second week in January, 1961, and Eddie Toller felt like shit. He always felt like shit from late November to late January of every year. Come February
the feeling would gradually begin to wear off.

  The cause of his spiritual malaise was the cornerstone of American democracy, capitalism, and the commercialism that this theory of economics fostered. From the end of November until the beginning of January Thanksgiving was followed by Christmas and Christmas by New Year’s and for each one there was a flood of commercials and advertisements that glorified the American family and the joys of spending these holiday seasons with one.

  And that was Eddie’s problem in a nutshell. He missed his momma, ’cause she was dead, and his daddy was long gone, so that meant no American family, no firesides and two months of depression.

  As it was the second week of January, Eddie’s depression was on the downswing, but it was still strong enough that he had sought solace in the cups at the bar down the corner from the fleabag hotel he was staying in until he could find work in Portsmouth.

  Eddie wasn’t alone at the bar tonight. He had made the acquaintance of an unshaven young man who wore a black leather motorcycle jacket and who combed his hair in what was popularly called a “duck’s ass.” It was the motorcycle jacket that had started the conversation. Eddie knew a lot about ’cycles and so did the fellow in the jacket who introduced himself as Willie Heartstone.

  They talked motorcycles for a while, then drifted into other areas of discussion, finally arriving, when they were both good and drunk, at the end point of most male bar conversations that aren’t about sports: pussy.

  Eddie told Willie about this great black pussy he had eaten in Georgia, while in the army, when he was so drunk that his piss had risen level with his eyeballs, and Willie told him that he wouldn’t fuck nigger pussy ’cause he heard it would bite you back. They both howled at that and the bartender had to caution them when they laughed so hard that Eddie knocked the pitcher off the bar.

  “I’ll tell ya,” Eddie said, buying the next round, “a little pussy right now would sure cure all my ills.”

  Heartstone was as drunk as Eddie. The beer from his mug slopped onto his clothes every time he waved his arm to make a point.

  “How about a big pussy,” he said, making a point. Eddie roared and Willie spilled some of his beer on Eddie’s chino slacks.

  “Any old size pussy,” Eddie conceded. “Just as long as it don’t have teeth.”

  Eddie started laughing again, but Willie was thinking and starting to look a bit crafty.

  “Say, Eddie, I know where you can get some of that good pussy, but it might cost you a bit. You got some dough for some good stuff?”

  Eddie had to think about that. He leaned against the bar, almost missing the counter top with his elbow. For some reason the bar stool wouldn’t stay in place. When he had steadied himself, he reached back slowly and pulled out his wallet. He had thirty-five bucks, plus, of course, some money he had hidden in his room.

  “How much this pussy gonna cost, Willie? ’Cause I’m runnin’ low and there still don’t look like there’s much work in this town.”

  Willie leaned over and peeked in Eddie’s wallet.

  “Ah, shit, Eddie. You’re a good old boy. Five bucks. How’s that?”

  Eddie thought about how little money he had left, but then he thought about how he hadn’t had a woman since San Antonio and he lurched off the bar stool.

  “Let’s go. You only live once, I say.”

  Willie slapped him on the back.

  “Only once.”

  Eddie slapped some change on the bar and they staggered outside. Willie’s car was parked in the tavern lot. They drove at breakneck speed over icy roads that threatened to throw them off at every turn. Willie’s driving was beginning to sober Eddie up, but speed only served to intoxicate Willie and his driving got crazier as they sped on into the night.

  Eddie must have dozed off after a while, because they had started in the city, but they were in the country when he opened his eyes. The car headlights were bouncing off trees and the car was tilted on an incline. Willie was nudging him and he realized that they were parked on a hilly, dirt driveway in front of a one-story weatherbeaten wooden house.

  “We here, boy. That good pussy’s just around the corner,” Willie said with a leer and a grin that revealed several rotting teeth.

  Willie tripped over an empty paint can on the porch and swore loudly. Then he banged the front door open, because of his frustration at not being able to get his key in the lock until the third try. Eddie was giggling and Willie started laughing again, once they were inside.

  “Who the fuck is makin’ that noise?” a voice yelled from a back room. Eddie peered down the hall to see if he could make out where the voice came from. It was too dark.

  “It’s me, Ralph. I got my good buddy here and we gonna knock off a piece.”

  Eddie could hear someone getting out of bed in a hurry. He looked into the front room. The place was a pigsty. Beer cans on the floor, the stuffing poking through a couch cushion.

  A man was coming down the hall pulling on his pants. He stopped when he saw Eddie. Anger suffused his face and he grabbed Willie by the arm.

  “Who is that, you asshole?”

  Willie looked a little put out, but didn’t try to pull his arm away.

  “Lay off, Ralph. This is my good buddy Eddie. Knows more about pussy and motorcycles than any man alive.”

  “You brought him here? You crazy? You want to go to…” Ralph started. Then, casting a hard look at Eddie he thought better of finishing his thought.

  “Listen, get your ass outta here.”

  Eddie looked at Willie. For the first time, he realized that he didn’t know where he was and that he didn’t know Willie too well. He decided not to make an issue of it and began to back toward the door. Willie caught his arm and pulled away from Ralph.

  “Now wait one fuckin’ minute, Ralph. Eddie’s okay and he said he could pay ten bucks for some good pussy, didn’t you, Eddie?”

  Willie winked at him and Eddie thought better of contradicting him on the terms of the contract. He just shook his head.

  “Yah. Sure. But I don’t want no trouble. If your friend…”

  “Ain’t gonna be no trouble. Now you just wait here while me and Ralph talk. Then you gonna get yourself some fine pussy.”

  Willie and Ralph walked down the hall. He could hear them arguing in low voices, but he could only make out an occasional word. The door of the room they had gone into opened and Willie and Ralph returned. Willie draped his arm around Eddie’s shoulder in a fatherly fashion and led him aside into a corner of the hallway.

  “Listen,” he whispered in Eddie’s ear, “my buddy loves this pussy so much he don’t want to share it around, but I talked to him and told him what a good old boy you was, so he’s relentin’. Only I had to tell him twenty bucks. That’s okay, ain’t it?” Willie asked, giving Eddie’s shoulder a manly squeeze, “’cause when you taste this pussy, you gonna say it’s hundred-dollar stuff.”

  Eddie was getting frightened. He could smell Willie’s stale breath over the beer smell and he did not like the looks of Ralph, who stared menacingly from the hallway.

  “Sure, twenty’s fine,” he agreed, managing a weak smile.

  “Good,” Willie roared, slapping him on the shoulder. “Now you slip me that twenty and we go do some rootin’.”

  Eddie gave Willie twenty dollars and Willie handed it to Ralph. Then Willie led him into a darkened kitchen. There was a basement door secured by a strong lock next to the refrigerator. Willie worked the lock and switched on the basement light. There was only a single 60-watt bulb and it left most of the basement in shadow. The rickety wooden stairs squeaked with each step and, in his condition, Eddie had to hold onto the banister to keep from tumbling down them.

  Eddie was concentrating so much on the stairs that he didn’t notice anything else until he had his feet planted firmly on the concrete. It was cold in the basement, but there was some heat emanating from an old-fashioned furnace that was set off near the far wall. Willie headed toward the furnace and E
ddie thought he heard something moving near it.

  “How you like that?” Willie asked softly. His voice had changed and his speech was coated with a coarse layer of lust.

  It was dark in the basement despite the light, and the corner where Willie was pointing was mostly in shadow, but Eddie could make out a figure, covered by a blanket, huddled on a bare mattress. The mattress gave off a rank odor and there were stains on a corner of it that looked like dried blood. The only part of the person that was not covered by the blanket was the head. He moved closer and he could see that it was a girl. She had not moved since they had come into her line of vision, but her eyes were open and she was watching their every movement. The girl’s hair was dirty, stringy and matted and Eddie had trouble making out whether it was black or brown at first. When he got closer, he could see that it was brown.

  “We got this one well-trained, Eddie. Yes, sir, don’t we?” Willie said, half to Eddie and half to the girl. The girl made no response. Her face was a blank and she seemed past caring.

  “This one’ll do whatever you so desire, won’t you, darlin’?”

  Eddie could hear Willie breathing heavily as he stripped off his jacket. Willie was wearing a heavy belt and he drew it out of the loops of his pants as he talked, never letting his eyes stray from the girl’s face.

  Willie jerked the blanket off with a sudden movement. The girl was dressed in slacks and a blouse. The blouse was unbuttoned and the girl was clutching the halves together with her right hand.

  The girl moved for the first time when the blanket was removed. It was not much of a movement. Just a quiver, accompanied by a whimper and a rattling metallic sound. Eddie found the source of that sound in a length of chain that was attached to the girl’s right ankle and a metal loop that was fastened to the cellar wall.

  Eddie began to feel sick. He didn’t go for this kind of thing. He wanted to back out, but he was too scared of Willie and Ralph to say anything.

  “You happy to see me, darlin’?” Willie crooned. As he talked, he switched the doubled belt against his thigh. The girl’s eyes did not leave the belt and they began to fill with tears. Willie squatted down and cupped the girl’s chin in his hand, forcing her to look into his eyes.